


Stone Cold Fox

by belgardebells



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dual POV, F/M, Fluff, Goofiness, Immaturity, Music Store, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belgardebells/pseuds/belgardebells
Summary: Clarke is the coolest girl Bellamy has ever met. He's been nuts about her the entire two years he's known her, but their relationship has never moved beyond being co-workers. He knows she's not into him. She's always talking about her friend Miller like he put the stars in the sky. But it's fine. Bellamy's not needy or anything. Besides, he has a girlfriend now. The ship has sailed.*Bellamy is the coolest guy Clarke knows. She hates her stupid job at the music store, but she's not likely to quit anytime soon, not when it means she gets to hang out with Bellamy everyday. Shereallywants him to be her boyfriend. She was close to asking, but then he went and got a girlfriend the literal day she'd planned on telling him how she felt. But it's fine. Really. And anyway, she could get with anyone else if she really wanted to. This ship has sailed.





	Stone Cold Fox

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most immature goof-fest ever. Not serious at all, just goof. Goof level 5000. The ultimate goof. Have I mentioned this fic contains goof? Alternating POVs between Bellamy and Clarke, starting with Clarke. I'm really sorry, but I'm about to taint this fic with Echo because I really want to decimate her. She's worse than Voldemort (not worse than Umbridge, tho.. I'll give her that). If you like her, this will offend you.
> 
> Song mood - [Be Mine](https://youtu.be/oNWOC_Pvo4w?t=14) by Ofenbach.
> 
> Colour mood:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, characterization is not good, man. I don't ever do very good characterization haha, but like esp not in this fic, JUST SO YOU KNOW.

The chimes above the front door jangled on the other side of the store from Clarke, announcing a customer. It was early on a Saturday morning, music playing quietly on the ceiling speakers. Since Clarke got to the store before Bellamy that morning, she got to choose the music. She beat him to the store by literal seconds, the pair of them noticing the other coming from opposite ends of the sidewalk, and then both sprinting to the front door. Bellamy would have made it first, but a black bird had swooped out of nowhere and come for his hair. He'd ducked, only just barely missing it, but the minor delay had allowed Clarke to slap her hand on the glass store door with a triumphant and breathy, "HA!" They were both arriving earlier and earlier every day just to be able to call dibs on the music. Clarke was winning most of them.

"Hello?" someone called.

"Just a second!" Clarke called back from where she was sitting on the carpeted floor, organizing a new arrival of CDs by singer and genre.

Since she arrived to the store first and therefore got to pick the music, that meant Bellamy, as the loser, was allowed to skip the first 30 minutes of work and do whatever he wanted in the back. Which was fine with Clarke, because there was absolutely nothing to do back there.

She got off the floor and dusted her hands on her faded, pale jeans. Her keys clinked in her pocket as she jogged through row upon row of shelf to get to the front.

"Hey, sorry, is there anything I can - oh - blech," she said, sticking out her tongue in disgust and turning away when she saw it was just Bellamy's gross girlfriend.

"Wow, very mature," said Echo.

"Waow, vry machur," Clarke imitated poorly, immediately developing a stomachache just at having  _seen_ Echo's face.

Just so she didn't have to talk to her, Clarke busied herself right there, choosing to rifle aimlessly through a box of damaged records sitting on the black strolling cart near the front desk. If it was on the black strolling cart, it meant either repair or garbage, though neither Clarke nor Bellamy ever sorted it properly to know which was which.

"Can you just tell Bellamy I'm here?" Echo said, irritated, and then muttering to herself, "There's always some shit when I come in."

"Bellamy!" Clarke called, rifling sharply through the records. "The devil is here to reap your life!"

There were quiet, scraping sounds behind her, and then a few seconds later, something walloped her in the back of the head. Well, walloped was the wrong word. 'Softly bumped' was the better descriptor, but Clarke was going to go with 'walloped'. With her hands still in the records, Clarke snapped her head over her shoulder, hair whipping. She first met Echo's glare, and then looked down at the ground to the scrunched up flyer she'd thrown.

Echo nodded to the flyer. "Might as well clean that up. That way you'll actually be able to claim you do any work here."

Clarke tensed her eyes, lips parting, and pushed the strolling cart on its squeaky wheels on her way to Echo.

" _BITCH_ \--" she started, prepared to throw an entire _box_ of flyers at her face, but Bellamy chose right then to appear from between two shelves.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Clarke swayed to a halt, setting both feet flat on the floor. Echo smiled, smug.

"Your incompetent employee is throwing a fit again."

Clarke clenched her jaw together so hard that her teeth clacked. Like the adult she was, she looked to Bellamy and pointed at Echo.

"She threw a wad of paper at me."

Bellamy sighed, coming up to Clarke and taking her by the shoulders to turn her around to face the direction he'd come from.

"Go wait in the back," he said quietly, sliding his hands from her shoulders and going to Echo, directing his next words to her, "What are you doing? Why are you guys always fighting?"

"Because she's a fucking cunt!" Clarke called, lifting her middle finger in the air above the stacks of music so Echo could see.

"You're fuckin' two years old, you know that?" she snapped.

Clarke pivoted, quickly running back down the narrow hall to the edge of the shelf. She gripped it, hanging out and seeing Echo's face drop into an immediate scowl when she noticed her.

"Still less of an infant than you," Clarke said with a smile, quickly disappearing from sight again.

"Echo, put it down," Bellamy said sharply, and then louder, "Clarke, knock it off."

Clarke skipped down the hall to the back, using both hands to snap the beaded curtain out of the way with a dramatic flourish so she could storm through.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Bellamy asked, hands in his pockets.

Having Clarke fighting with his girlfriend wasn't his favourite way to start the day, and Echo knew that. He'd asked her not to come by unexpectedly because of it.

"I really don't know why you don't fire her," said Echo, sitting on the edge of the front desk, crossing her arms. "You're paying her for doing nothing."

"She works," said Bellamy. "She does what her position calls for."

Echo rolled her eyes. "She doesn't do anything and you know it."

Clarke did plenty. More than enough.

"I'm not firing her," he said, harsher than he'd meant to. At Echo's hurt look, Bellamy sighed tightly and stepped forward, touching her bare arms. "Can we not talk about this? I'm more interested in why you came over."

Echo relaxed, uncrossing her arms and taking both his hands to hang between them.

"You weren't answering your phone," she said.

"I don't keep it on me when I'm at work," he lied.

She nodded, grazing the back of his hand with her thumb.

"Well, I just wanted to invite you to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. They need a headcount, so they wanted me to ask you as soon as possible."

"Uh ... yeah, I'll have to see about it," he said, working hard to come up with an excuse. "I'm pretty sure I have other plans."

Echo pursed her lips, looking down. "Can you get back to me by the end of the day, then?"

"Okay," he said. "Sure."

"I really want you to meet them," she said, leaning in to kiss him. "They'll love you."

Bellamy closed his eyes, letting her kiss him, kissing her back, unintentionally picturing Clarke. That only happened half the time. The other half, when he focused specifically on Echo, he was fine. Normally.

He should probably break up with her. But that would defeat the whole fucking purpose of dating her in the first place. If he didn't have to get over Clarke, he wouldn't have gotten into a relationship with the person most dissimilar to her on the planet. Not that it was working. Obviously. Unfortunately.

Bellamy pulled away first, dropping his gaze when he saw the confusion flit across Echo's face.

"I, uh ... I gotta get back to work," he said.

She was quiet for a moment before letting go of his hands.

"Right."

He shoved his in his pockets. "I'll text you later. About Thanksgiving."

She nodded once. "All right."

Her tone was clipped, but Bellamy didn't care very much. He felt worse about the fact that he didn't care than he did about the fact that he'd upset her. When she turned to leave, he didn't wait for her to be gone before he headed toward the back to Clarke. He parted the beaded curtain that lead into the dimly lit back room and stepped inside.

Clarke was lounging in the big red arm chair - his chair - with her body slid halfway down it, the collar of her sleeveless white band tee in her mouth. She looked at him when he entered, using her tongue to knock the shirt out of her mouth.

"You're a brat, you know that?" he said.

"I don't like her," she said without missing a beat, balancing her arms on the arm rests, curling her fingers around the ends.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her refusal to get up.

"Are you just going to stay in my chair?"

She frowned, eyes turning to narrow slits.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, voice tinged with genuine confusion. "I thought you were about to teach me a lesson or something. Do I even need to be here for this?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes and sat in the broken, maroon couch right across from her, springs sticking into his ass.

"Stop being shitty to people," he said firmly, elbows on his knees and hands clasped. "I mean it."

Clarke huffed. "I'm not shitty to people, I'm shitty to Yucko because I don't  _like her_."

"Clarke, she's my girlfriend."

Her expression changed, and she looked away to glower at the wall.

"Yes, I know _."_

He figured if Clarke cared about him at all, then she wouldn't be so outwardly antagonistic toward someone who he was dating, right? If she cared about his feelings, she'd respect his relationship. He wanted to matter to her, at least with  _some_ significance.

He watched her for a moment, bouncing his knee.

"Can't you just try to be nice to her?"

She answered immediately.

"No, I can't, thanks for asking."

"Clarke, it's not that hard," he said with a shake of his head.

"Imagine if I asked you to be nice to Miller," she said, like she knew she would win the argument with that.

Bellamy's face tightened at once, and Clarke raised her brows, nodding.

"See?" she said. "Yeah. Exactly. Not so easy, is it?"

Bellamy clenched his jaw, the skin beneath one eye twitching.

"That's not the same thing," he muttered.

"Yes, it is!" she snapped. "I hate Echo, you hate Miller. Same ass thing."

He sighed hard, falling back against the couch with his legs stretched out. It  _wasn't_ the same thing, because the reason Bellamy hated Miller was because he flirted with Clarke non-fucking-stop. The reason Clarke didn't like Echo wasn't because of Bellamy. His stupid little jealous heart fucking wished it was.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" he grumbled, looking at the pale blue threadbare carpet instead of at her.

"What kind of question is that right now?" she asked, loud and confused.

"Just answer it," he said.

She shook her head, face scrunched up. She had a small double chin from the way her neck was craned.

"I don't know. Going to your place probably."

Her parents hadn't celebrated Easter months ago because of marital problems, which might still be going on. Bellamy didn't want to presume.

"Your folks aren't doing Thanksgiving this year, either?"

Her features cleared, demeanour softening.

"Oh," she said, looked down to her knees. "No, they're still fighting. They did ask me to come home for the holiday, but I'm not going to. Or I will, I guess, if you have other plans or something."

Fuck it. No plans.

"Obviously not," he said, kicking her foot, which she kicked back, and then just to tease her, "If you weren't here, I'd definitely go do something else, though."

"Well, don't make plans on account of me," she said, though the pleased look on her face belied her words.

They were still kicking at each other's feet.

"I'm going to," he said, like it was a threat, and kicked her toes extra hard by accident.

"Ow - God!"

"Sorry," he said, and then pushed to his feet and nodded his chin at her. "Get out of my chair."

She rolled her eyes and slid right off it, somehow into a crouch instead of a heap. She jerked to her feet and started for the door.

"I'm not being nice to your stupid girlfriend," she muttered as she strode past.

"I'm your boss, and this is your workplace," he said, turning to remain facing her. "In any other business, you'd be fired for inappropriate conduct."

"Fire me, then!" she threw back, tone sharp, but there was no real malice there.

He narrowed his eyes at her, hands on his hips.

"I'm marking you down for insubordination," he called, even though he wasn't going to do that and it wouldn't even matter if he did, given the fact that he was the boss.

"Ooh, are you gonna spank me, too?" she asked as she walked away, sarcastic. "Since I'm being  _oh so_ naughty?"

He stared after her, gut tightening and brow lightly furrowed. She didn't look at him as she left, but when she shoved the beaded curtain aside, he could see from her profile that she smirking, finding her little comment funny. Bellamy breathed deeply, dropping his chin and squeezing his eyes shut hard.

"Fuckin'--" he said under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying very hard to get the image of a naked Clarke bent over his lap with red ass cheeks  _out_ of his mind.

He had a girlfriend, he had a  _girlfriend._ Why the  _fuck_ did he have a girlfriend? Scratch that - why did  _Clarke_ have to have a thing with another dude?

Fucking Miller.

Bellamy shook his head sharply and crossed to the couple of school lockers by the wall - one for him and one for Clarke - to grab his jacket and wallet. He needed to get out for a second, get some air ... get some fucking advice.

"You want anything from the store?" he asked when he emerged from the back, seeing her sitting a few feet away from him, sorting through CDs. "A snack or a drink or anything?"

"Nada," she said, giving him a lazy wave without looking up.

 _At least fucking miss me or something when I'm leaving, Jesus,_ he thought, like some infantile little boy with a crush.

Two years. Two perfect, horrible fucking years that he'd known this girl, and he wanted her as much as ever.

"I wouldn't have gotten you anything anyway," he said, already walking away.

Clarke snorted. "You'd get me an entire store if I wanted it, Blake. Don't lie."

He didn't reply to that, because fuck, it was the truth. He shoved through the door harder than he'd meant to and stepped out into the warm morning. On his way to his car, he ran a hand through his dark curls, trying to decide between getting Clarke her favourite flavour of popchips or Doritos. Maybe just both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Writing Becho romance makes me gag! :D Also Miller's gay as Hell haha.
> 
> So first chapter is mixed POV, but from here on out, each chapter is going to be its own POV. One whole chap for Bellamy, then Clarke, alternating like that (or vice versa).
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I need some massive dork floof in my life, so I hope some of you do, as well!

**Author's Note:**

> ♫ Come on, let's go. And I want you to come, I won't let you go.... Yeah, I want you to be mine. ♫♪


End file.
